The Different Sides of Sanity
by Cecilia Green
Summary: (REPOSTED) When Alice fell down the Rabbit Hole, her soul was split in two. One Alice travels with her comrades, determined to find a way back home. The other follows a darker path, through murder and ambition to discover her destiny. How do different events shape a person's soul? Can one Alice go back without the other?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: OK, so this is the edited version of a story I had written a while ago. Tell me if you like the changes, or if you have any other comments or questions. I will answer in the next chapter. Bye!**

* * *

The fields outside our manor were overgrown with the tall spring grass that marked the end of winter. The early March breeze carried the aroma of wildflowers and the blossoming orange trees from Mother's orchard. I realized that soon, I'd be able to help her pick fresh lilies to decorate our greenroom, and watch hummingbirds drink sugar-water from our feeders. Really, spring was just so good at bringing out the best in everything. Not even the oncoming lesson with Madge could dampen my mood. I hopped and skipped with joy. A lesson outside, with wind in my hair and spring grass underfoot, could the day not get better?

No sooner had I the thought formed in my head that Madge's firm hand rested on my shoulder, forcing me to slow my pace to one that better matched my older sister's. "Now, don't go wandering off, Alice," she said sternly. "That was the agreement, correct? I give you your lesson outside and you behave, hmm?"

I gave an exasperated sigh, but settled back down. I had only to wait for our chapter to be over, and then I could roam the hillside until teatime. Rebelliously, I spread my arms out wide, allowing the brisk wind to fly through my fingers.

"What do you think you're doing?" Madge sighed.

I snorted. "I'm a _bird_, Madge." I spoke as if it was an obvious thing. "When the wind gets strong enough, I'll _fly_."

That managed to get a smile out of her. "Well, until then, let's begin our lesson."

Soon enough, we found the thick maple tree at the highest point of the hill. I was allowed to skip until we reached the large truck, at which point I slid down the rough bark and settled my bum on the soft grass. Madge knelt before me, still a full head and shoulders taller than myself. "Now, where were we?" she muttered, flipping the pages in our book until she reached the correct paragraph. She cleared her throat and began. "_The wandering savage grows no cultivated vegetable, fells no forest, and extirpates no useful plant, no noxious weed. If his skill in the chase enables him to entrap numbers of animals on which he feeds, he compensates this loss by destroying also the lion, the tiger, the wolf, the otter, the seal…_"

"Not the cute little seal!" I exclaimed. I had seen illustrations of such animals in Father's academic notebooks, with their pudgy faces, flubbery bodies, and big, cow eyes. They were like fat, aquatic babies, and had nestled themselves in a warm corner of my heart.

Madge rolled her eyes. "Really, Alice, I wish you'd actually focus on the lesson. This is valuable knowledge. You should feel lucky that Father allows us women to gain such an education.

_Why? It's boring,_ I thought silently, but I nodded at Madge to continue her reading. Again, she cleared her throat and said, "_…and the eagle, thus indirectly protecting the feebler quadrupeds and fish and fowls, which would otherwise become the booty of beasts and birds of prey._"

Finally, I could take it no longer. "Why must we read such dull scripts?" I whined. "Can we not hear of more exciting stories? An adventure or mystery, set in a mystical land far, far away?"

"What a mind you have, Alice!" Madge threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "What would you have me read to you, to develop your knowledge?" she asked.

I needed only a moment to think. "That new Verne novel, about the centre of Earth!" I exclaimed almost instantly. Our father had just recently acquired the translated story, and it was sitting, unread, on one of the tall bookcases in our family's library.

But Madge only waved her hand dismissively. "Pure fiction," she scoffed. "Idiot child! I cannot hope to teach you while your mind is on such nonsensical topics." She looked at me in a mixture of sadness and disappointment. "When will you learn that the world is not made up of these childish wonders?"

"I can dream, Madge!" I said, wounded. "I can create my own adventures without your stupid books!"

Madge shut her eyes tight and scrunched up her face the way she did whenever annoyed. "_It's all made up, Alice_!" she cried. "I try to help you, to turn you into the young woman you will be someday, but you are making it the most difficult task."

"I don't care! I don't need any of this!" I screamed. I stood up and began to march down the hill, away from my sibling.

"Where do you think you're going?" Madge yelled after me.

"To my own wonderland," I snapped behind my back. "To where George MacDonald and Jules Verne and all the other people with imagination reside!"

"Alice, wait!" I heard Madge say, but I was already running. I rushed past the meadow and leapt into the forest behind the Manor, never once pausing to admire the scenery. Finally, I collapsed onto the ground, tears running down my cheeks. She had spoiled it. I was determined to enjoy my day of spring outside, but my stupid sister had spoiled it, like she always did.

And now I was lost. It was true. I had no memory of where I had come from and where to go. Father forbade us from entering the woods by ourselves, but I had been blinded in my rage. I looked up hopelessly. Sunlight was streaming through the trees' leaves, hitting the earthen floor in small, golden speckles. Beetles and ants scuttled along the ground, sometimes finding cover in patches of grass and fallen branches and short, thorny shrubs.

It was beautiful, yet nothing could lessen my sadness. I hiccupped and wetness coated my face. I dissolved into another fit of sobs. Why was everything so unfair? Even if my family found me out here, I'd just go back to Madge and her stupid books. I'd be ridiculed for running off, and I would never again get the chance to roam the hills.

Well, sod them all. I hated them. I wanted to go to my special place I had been talking about, the place with fairy tales and hidden tunnels with treasures and wonders yet to be found. But how? Madge was right; I knew this in my miserable heart. Such a place never existed. I hugged my knees to my chest and wept pitifully. And now I'd be late for tea!

"I'm _late_!" a shrill voice squealed, making me jump.

I whirled my head around, scanning the forest for whoever could've spoken. "Hello?" I said uncertainly.

A white rabbit, with pink eyes stumbled out of a brush. I gasped at his garb. A frilly, white shirt was thrown over his plump torso, with a silken blue waistcoat buttoned down over top. He held a thick, golden pocket watch in his fluffy paw, and was staring at it anxiously through round spectacles. "Oh dear, oh dear, I am most terribly late," he muttered nervously. As he spoke, his wide feet beat upon the ground with agitation, and his nose twitched rapidly.

I hid my shock with an inquiry. "Um… late for what, sir?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

The rabbit ignored me completely, and instead dashed into the bushes on the other side of the wood, all the while repeating his jittery words, "She'll be so dreadfully cross with me, oh, I am late."

"Wait!" I jumped to my feet, my tears and troubles forgotten. I lifted my skirts and stumbled over lumps of dirt and rock, trying to follow the clothed rodent. "Wait, Rabbit Sir, please!"

My heart beat desperately beneath my ribs. If I allowed this strange rabbit to escape me, then I would be all alone once more. I did not know who, or what he was, but the rabbit was the only thing that could lead me anywhere in this blasted wood.

Sharp twigs and thorny branches snagged at the hem of my blue frock, and moist earth coated the glossy black of my dress shoes, yet still I ran. I followed the frantic mutterings of the rodent somewhere ahead of me. It grew increasingly difficult, however. This rabbit was especially rushed, and he sped ahead of me and out of earshot within minutes. Tears were still streaming down my face, yet now it was out of fear of losing my only hope out of the forest. Finally, I stopped to catch my breath, and I knew that the rabbit was truly gone from me.

My stockings were ripped terribly and the skin beneath was scratched. I puffed out my cheeks, trying to keep my tears at bay, when I heard the faintest of voices to my right – "I'm late, I'm late to a very important date!" I spun around, gasping, my breath ragged. "Mister Rabbit?" I whimpered. I took a cautious step forward and another after that.

Then I heard it again, that distressed, high-pitched voice talking without once pausing for breath, "No time to say hello, goodbye! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

That encouraged me to take another step forward, faster this time. "Wait, Rabbit Sir!" I yelled. I took another speedy step forward, but fell through empty space and tumbled down a large, dark hole.

"NO!" I screamed. My hand shot forward and clung to a slippery, muddy wall before the soil fell away, and once again I was falling. "Madge! Mister Rabbit, please!" Darkness clouded around me, and everywhere was the stench of dirt and mould. I fell and fell through endless space, wind whooshing up and whipping my hair across my face with enough force to surely leave red streaks running along my cheeks. I scraped my hands along the moist, earthen walls, trying desperately to slow my descent, but every time the mud slicked my grip and made my fingers slip away.

The air pushed and shoved me against the dirt walls, battering me with bruises and causing the rich, dark mud to fall into my gaping mouth. Tiny creatures and bugs squirmed between my teeth, wriggling along my tongue and falling down my throat. The slime and movement made me cough and sputter, and I heaved sick into the air as I fell, only for it to splatter across my pinafore and drip down into the dark hole.

Terror gripped my heart like a vise, and I struggled to breath the thick and dirty air, but the space around me seemed to beat my breath out of me until I was purple in the face and my lungs burned and scratched the inside of my chest.

I felt as if I were falling through forever. Maybe I'd land in a mysterious, lost world like in Jules Verne's novel, or be consumed by a fiery death of magma and heat like in Madge's science books. Whatever awaited me at the bottom of this nightmarish tunnel seemed a lifetime away. I plunged further and further into the depths of darkness for what seemed like years, but the fear never lessened. With every second that ticked by, I felt as if I were falling faster and faster until time no longer existed.

The further down I got, the more the temperature dropped, until the air caused my tears to freeze on my cheeks, and my screams billowed in icy clouds behind me. My skin turned to gooseflesh, and the clumps of dirt caked to my dress hardened into freezing earthen rocks.

But just as the darkness stole the last bit of light from my soul, just as the terror choked the last bit of hope from my heart, and just as the coldness froze the last bit of breath from my throat, I saw a faint blue light ahead of me. I squinted, wondering if my sight was failing me at last, if perhaps Death was coming to claim me, but the light became deceptively bright as I neared it. It grew to a burning blue glow, and it widened the further down I fell. It grew and grew, and soon, it enveloped me.

As the glow disappeared, I could see land beneath me. Trees of another wood, at the bottom of this enormous hole. Hope blossomed inside my chest, and I reached out a hand, aching to touch the ground whooshing up to meet me –

– only for my fingers to be crushed back into a fist as the first of the sharp pine needles crashed into my outstretched arm, followed by my shoulder, my torso, and the rest of my body. I tumbled to the ground, breaking whatever branches blocked my path.

My arm was the first thing to hit the floor, and I slammed on top of it with crippling force. I felt my arm jerk upward, and with a sickening _CRACK_, the bone bent and snapped.

It was a good few second before jagged shards of agony laced up my arm, all the way passed my shoulder and piercing through my ribs. Intense and penetrating pain twisted through the nerves of my right arm, causing my vision to distort and shatter like broken glass. Torment swelled and clumped up in my throat, choking me until my breath was nothing but weak air being forced between my teeth. Through my broken eyesight, I could see cracked bone piercing through the ragged, blood-soaked skin of my upper arm, just above my elbow.

I had not the energy to even release wet sobs before darkness clouded behind my eyes, pushing me into unconsciousness.

* * *

I awoke to the feral sounds of the wood. Night had fallen, and only the faint silvery glow of the moon allowed any sight. I tried to sit up before I remembered my crippled arm. It had gone numb, thank the heavens, but every movement caused the muscles to throb and my bones to shake within my flesh. With a grunt of discomfort, I pushed myself up with my left arm until I was able to look around.

I was in another forest, but a different one. While maples and oaks had branched up from the ground in the wood behind the Manor, these trees were bare and pale as bone. Their long, rough branches were twisted and bent towards the sky, like they were trying to reach the moon.

I had landed in a very small clearing. Some of the branches I had broken were strewn across the forest floor. I looked down and my hands, but I could only glance at the right one before looking away, sick. I had never been able to hold my stomach at the sight of blood.

My left hand was slick with mud, as was my dress and once-white pinafore. I saw that I had lost one of my shoes in the crash, but that was the least of my worries. It was cool out, but not as frigid as the air in the hole.

I struggled to my feet, my arm hanging limply at my side. I could feel wet soil in between the toes of the foot that was missing a shoe. Despite my broken arm, and the fact that I was alone in an unknown forest, I felt strangely peaceful. I closed my eyes and allowed myself a brief respite.

Until I heard growling from behind me. I held my breath, my eyes growing wide as the party dishes in Mum's cupboard. Slowly, I turned around, and a creature unlike any I had seen before came into view.

It had the semblance of a large cat, but with broad, stooped shoulders that gave it a lumbering appearance, and it was roughly the size of a bull. Its fur was shaggy and white with dark, purple-black spots. Jagged, blood-stained teeth poked out of a wide mouth with grey lips that were pulled back in a snarl. Slobber dripped from its darkly-colored tongue as it took a menacing step forward with one massive paw. I gasped.

The small noise seemed to set the creature off, and it began towards me in a charge. With a shriek, I managed to retreat a few steps before tripping and stumbling onto my bum. I managed to struggle to my feet once more, but by then it was too late. As the creature came upon me, it reared up on its hind legs and released a rumbling, savage roar.

Just then, I heard the sound of a gunshot. The creature was cut off mid-roar. It grunted, its eyes rolled back into its skull, and it fell onto its side, shaking the earth as it hit the ground.

Behind it stood a boy of 15. His skin looked ghostly pale in the moonlight, and his wild, spiky hair was black as onyx. He wore round spectacles like the rabbit, but behind them I could see mismatched eyes – one green as moss with brass and golden flecks, and the other a dark and endless brown.

A dark, velvet overcoat hid most of his clothing, but I could see a long, speckled bowtie around his neck. Atop his head sat a lavish top hat, decorated with laces and silks of every variety. He held a smoking pistol in one hand and a sharp, curved cutlass in the other. Very slowly, he lowered the weapons. He cocked his head to one side and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What are you doing here?" he said. His voice was a strange mix of quirky and mature, curious but guarded.

I tried to say something, but my jaw trembled and my knees felt weak. Finally, my legs gave way and I crumpled to the ground.

The boy was behind me in no time, his arms supporting me, stopping my descent. "Shh, shh," he said, his voice now soothing. Elegant pianist fingers caressed my cheek comfortingly, and his colorful gaze penetrated me. "You're safe now," he murmured.

I opened and closed my mouth repeatedly, trying to get a sound out. I managed the words, "My name is Alice."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. "Hatter," he replied.

Then I slipped into darkness.

* * *

My eyes snapped open and I gasped. The noise of the night's forest surrounded me, and I once again felt fear in my heart. My broken arm was pinned beneath me. It had gone numb, thank the heavens, but it still groaned with discomfort with every movement. I gingerly climbed to my knees, cradling the arm with my left hand. I looked around. I was in a coniferous forest, like the ones in Madge's books. The moon was out, lighting my small clearing in dull silver. The air was cool, and somewhat refreshing. This odd place was surprisingly peaceful, and I smiled in spite of myself. I closed my eyes and drank in the sound and smells of the wood.

A low and menacing growl interrupted my peace. I turned and my breath caught in my throat.

Before me, a catlike beast was crouched. Snowy white fur with purple-black spots covered its entire body, save for grey, slobbering lips. Its head was stretched before its wide shoulders, its pale and intelligent eyes staring at me hungrily.

"Help," I choked out in a barely audible voice, but my efforts were futile. Even if I had spoken loud enough to be heard, the forest was empty of any other human. I was utterly alone.

Unfortunately, my pitiful plea seemed to trigger something in the animal. With another growl, it started my way, placing one enormous paw in front of the other with increasing speed. I staggered to my feet. The thought of running crossed my mind, but it was obvious that this creature would overcome me within seconds.

As it neared, I gathered the strength in my legs and leapt to the side. The animal charged passed me, barely stopping in time to avoid crashing into the tree behind me. It turned its head and gave another rumbling growl.

My momentum had carried me a few meters to the left. I staggered but quickly regained my footing. My heart beat furiously in my chest, and I felt my strength failing me. Still, I whipped my head around, searching for anything I could use against the vicious creature, but I had little time before it charged at me once more. This time, I did not react quickly enough. It knocked me off my feet, its great body pinning me to the forest's floor. "_No_!" I hissed through gritted teeth. Drool spilt from the creature's lips and dribbled down onto my cheek when it looked down savagely at what it must have thought was its next meal.

But my mind was set. I would not die in this unknown wood at the hands of an overgrown _cat_. I slapped my left hand against the earth until I found a fallen branch. Not wasting a second, I brought the stick forth and bashed it against the creature's noggin with all the force I could muster.

I knew it did not hurt the beast in the slightest, but it blinked in surprise and stepped backwards a few paces. In its bewildered state, I took the branch in a firmer grip and plunged the sharp side up into the creature's fleshy throat.

Its jaw gaped open before it fell to the ground, dead. I felt a brief feeling of triumph before a sudden nauseating sensation overcame me. I doubled over, my left had supporting my upper body from falling while I pressed my right arm protectively against my stomach.

Darkness clouded my vision, but I managed to crawl my way to the dead creature's body before completely collapsing. Its fur was still warm, its stomach soft with fat. I buried myself in the creature's corpse, hoping to shelter myself from the harsh world around me. My mind was going in circles, and I felt panic roiling in my stomach.

Where was I? Where could I find help? What was this beast that I had just killed? These questions swam through my mind before I gratefully fell into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes, the sun had risen, and single golden ray rested on my body, warming my dirtied pinafore. I hoped against hope that it had all been a dream and that I was back in bed at the Manor, with Marge prepared to scold me in the other room, but when I felt rough grass beneath my skin, I knew that my prayers had gone unanswered. I drew in a shuddering breath, when a voice spoke from behind me.

"Still with us, Alice?" it said.

I rolled onto my other side to see the boy from the previous night leaning against a tree trunk a few meters away and drinking from a dark brown, clay bottle. Seeing him in the sun revealed that he wasn't as pale as I had thought. His skin, instead of dead white, was the color of French cream, like in my mother's favorite pastries. He wore a vest of scarlet satin and golden buttons on top of midnight-black shirt made from the same material. Pinstripe grey-and-black pants were tucked into leather hunting boots. I could now see his hat more clearly, and took note of how unusual it was. Fabrics of all sorts of colors were sewn into the hat's skin, from intricate navy lace to textured brown cloqué. Pins and buttons were sewn onto the hat's surface, and the price tag – 10 shillings and 6 pence – stuck out of the magenta ribbon that was tied around the hat's circumference.

"Where am I?" I croaked. My throat was so dry, it was painful to swallow.

He spread his arms out, gesturing to the whole wood. "Skeleton's Forest, they call this place," he said. "Hmm… Strange how _they_ seem to give everything a name except themselves, so we are forced to call them _they_ all the time. I'll have to write a letter of complaint to _they_, not that they'll read it. Nobody ever seems to read my letters." He pursed his lips thoughtfully and took a swig from his clay bottle.

"Wha – they?" I shifted my arm, God knows why, and caused fresh daggers of pain to jab forcefully up to my shoulder. I cried out, tears stinging my eyes.

"Slow down there, doll. You hurt yourself pretty badly there," said the boy. He got up from his place on the trunk and crouched down next to me. "Here, this'll do the trick." He gathered me up in one arm and held the bottle to my lips, dribbling some of its contents into my mouth.

As soon as the first drop hit my tongue, the strength of the taste caused me to scrunch up my nose and clench my teeth. The liquid burned my throat as I swallowed, and twisted my stomach into knots. My eyes bulged. I turned my head to the side and retched.

"Easy now," he said as I heaved, spitting out the drink I had just imbibed.

"What – what is that?" I panted when my fit was over.

"Rum mixed with brandy and – is it vodka?" He sniffed the top of the bottle and nodded. "Yep. Rum mixed with brandy and vodka," he confirmed. When he caught sight of my expression, he shrugged. "I can't tell you how much I'm aching for a nice cuppa right now, but seeing as I've got none on hand, and I have some bloody good spirits right here…" He gave me a quirky smile, his arm still around my shoulders. "Well, you just make do with what you've got!" He gulped down a few more mouthfuls of the poisonous liquid.

I groaned. His nonsensical babble made my head swim, and the spirits had not helped the sickness in my stomach. "I can't… I can't…" I moaned. My arm was throbbing, every movement sending agony shooting through my body.

"Slow it down," he said. I felt his breath on my face. It was warm, and smelled like tea leaves and alcohol. "Drink this." He pressed the bottle insistently against my mouth. I was too weak to resist, and swallowed more of the stinging drink. The taste burned through my mouth, into my nostrils. But it seemed as though every gulp lessened the pain in my arm, until I could move it with only a slight pulse of pain.

I spluttered. "Breathe," I gasped. "Breathe." He seemed to understand my words, and pulled the bottle away so that I could inhale without difficulty. I began to sit up, and he released his hold on my body and shimmied a few feet away to give me room.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

I didn't answer, but snatched the clay container from his grip. I hungrily gulped down the spirits, trying my best to ignore the taste, yearning only the relief the alcohol brought me. "What was it that attacked me?" I panted between swallows.

"Bandersnatch," he said. He was eyeing me with a semblance of amusement, watching me inhale the alcoholic mixture. "You're lucky it was just the one. They usually travel in packs, and even I couldn't handle 10 of those beasties. You should probably slow down," he added. The bottle already felt half as heavy as it had been 20 seconds ago. The feeling of the burning liquid washing down my throat was strangely addictive, but I paused for a moment and handed it back to the boy. He took it and downed another mouthful.

"I don't believe I heard your name last night," I said.

"You did. Hatter," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

I chuckled, feeling giddiness swell in my chest. "That's an occupation, I believe," I pointed out.

"Well, it's also my name," he said casually. "Mad Hatter."

"Mad?" I snorted, the most unladylike laugh escaping my lips. "You don't seem mad. Just…slightly drunk is all."

At this, the boy laughed. "Pffft, no. I'm always like this." He waved the bottle of spirits in the air. "_This_ isn't doing a thing. I'm actually _very_ alcohol-tolerant." He looked me up and down, taking in my ragged clothing, my mussed up hair, and my flushed face. "You on the other hand…"

I laughed, throwing my shoulders behind me. Even with my groggy mind, however, the pain of this sudden movement was still sharp, and it stabbed into me, quickly turning my laugh into a whimper.

His expression morphed into one of concern, and he started towards me. "Now, now, hold still." He took my arm in his hand. His hands…they were so soft. I looked down at my wound, and felt as if my drink would soon come back up.

My entire upper arm was purple and swollen, while the lower part was pale and blood-depraved. Rust-colored blood crusted the broken skin along the gash that spanned from the bottom edge of my shoulder to the tip of my elbow. Clear liquid oozed from the exposed flesh, and I saw shards of white bone peeking through my sliced skin. I looked back up at Hatter, who was inspecting the wound with his mismatched eyes. All signs of humor left his features as he turned my arm this way and that, looking into all corners of the broken bone.

"Alright, Alice," he said. "I'm going to try to fix this a bit, OK? Now, this won't hurt a bit." He poured some of the spirits over the wound.

I could not hold it in. I opened my mouth and screamed my agony. The hurt clawed and tore at my throat, pushing the scream passed my lips and splitting the air. Excruciating pain pounded passed my flesh, digging into my bone and drilling into my brain. When he was satisfied with the amount of liquid he had poured over my arm, he produced a pocket handkerchief and pressed it down against the open wound. I wept as more agony coursed through my veins. Pus sputtered up from my flesh, bubbling at the top of my skin. It felt as if a hot iron was being forced against my arm, growing in heat and intensity.

I was crying, sobbing through the pain. I tried to speak and tell him to stop, but I choked on my tears, and I only managed a strangled gurgle.

Hatter removed the cloth, but then gripped his hand around my arm on both sides of the wound. He hesitated for only a moment before jerking his hands upward. With one swift movement, the bone tore through my flesh and snapped down back inside my arm. My scream lasted for near a minute, and the force of it caused bloody lumps to form in my throat. I did not even notice, though. My mind was only on the agony in my right arm.

I braced myself for another onslaught of pain, but none came. I looked up at Hatter. Even through my tears, I could see his eyes staring into me with a gaze that was completely, utterly sober. "You said it wouldn't hurt," I said weakly.

"I lied," he said. When I was silent, he spoke. "I didn't heal your wound, but that should hold out until we can get some help." He stood and offered me a hand. I sniffled and grasped it, and he helped me to my feet.

"Where are we, Hatter?" I asked, swaying in place.

"I already said, the Skeleton's Forest," he said.

I hiccupped. It was supposed to be a laugh. "The forest outside of my manor was called Aberdale Wood," I said. "My sister Madge was reading _Man and Nature_ to me and… oh, God, Madge…" I dissolved into a fit of sobs.

Hatter's arms circled around me. He held my head to my chest and _shushed_ in my ear. "Calm down," he murmured. "We'll figure this out. My camp is not too far from here. My friends will be waiting for me, and we can talk things out there."

"I don't know where I am, Hatter," I sputtered. "I don't know how I got here, and I don't know how to get out…"

"Shh, I know. It's OK," he said.

I looked up at him with red, swollen eyes. "I'm scared, Hatter," I said.

He only looked at me with sadness in his eyes. "You'll have to get used to that, doll," he said. "You're in Wonderland now."

* * *

I awoke to a tickling sensation on my nose. I smiled, my eyes still closed. "Mother, stop it," I mumbled. I could almost hear her soft, sweet voice telling me how foolish I'd been, running off into the woods like that. I opened my eyes, expecting to see her staring down at me, but instead was greeted with the sight of coniferous trees surrounding me. A fly had perched itself on my nose. I tried to swat it away, but the slightest movement made my arm scream. I tried to voice my pain, but my throat was sore, and no sound came out.

It took me a few moments to remember all that had happened the previous night. The fall, the crash, the catlike monster. I gasped audibly.

Minding my arm, I slowly sat up and looked around, causing the fly to buzz away. I was still in the same clearing, the carcass of the feline creature sprawled out, its round belly pressed against my back. The skin had gone cold, and tiny insects had begun to gather around the gaping mouth, thus the flies. I turned my gaze to the creature's neck. The branch was still lodged in the beast's throat, and dried blood caked the once-white fur around the wound. The dead flesh and blood left a rotten, sour stench in the air, making me cough and cover my mouth.

I climbed unsteadily to my feet and risked a quick look at my arm. The powerful odor brought tears to my eyes, and I realized that the animal carcass wasn't the only thing attracting flies. Around the area where my bone was sticking out, torn flesh and sinew was dangling, slapping my purpling skin with every movement. I realized that I could not let it sit like this for much longer – but what could I do?

The answer dawned on me slowly and painfully, and I released a dry sob in fear of the oncoming pain. Still, I knew in my heart what must be done.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my speeding heart. I'd read books, and seen Mum fix a few broken bones, but nothing had prepared me for what I was about to do. I looked down at my ruined pinafore. The fabric was rough cotton, and stained, but I took the garment with one hand and tore off a long strip of cloth. Balling it up, I then stuffed it into my mouth. It acted as a large cushion, should I bite down on my tongue. I then ripped off a longer section of the apron, and set it to the side.

With the cloth ball in my mouth, I settled my palm against the section of bone that was sticking out through my skin. Just that small touch made my nerves shriek and sent a fierce pulse of pain ringing through the flesh around the bone. I whimpered through my cloth, but steeled my nerves before pushing down on the bone with as much force as I could.

My sharp, agonized cry was muffled by the rag in my mouth, but the fabric did nothing to help the pain from exploding through my limb. Tears fell down my cheeks when I removed my hand. It was crimson with blood, and agony still oozed from my wound, but at least the bone was back _inside_ my body.

Still weeping softly, I spat the rag out and grabbed the other strip of cloth. I then wrapped it tightly around the extent of the gash. The pressure numbed my arm some, making it possible to move it this way and that without an unbearable amount of pain. I took a deep breath. Now that my arm was temporarily taken care of, what to do? Again, I looked at my surroundings. I was in an unfamiliar wood, with a large, dead animal lying before me, and a broken arm. Really, there was only a handful of things I _could_ do.

I began staggering into the wood. This was the only chance I had of finding anybody else. A part of my mind hoped that they'd be able to direct me back to the Manor, perhaps contact Mum and Dad and Madge, but the other part of my mind knew that I wasn't anywhere near the Manor. I was sure that I wasn't even in Aberdale Wood anymore.

What kind of rabbit hole transported you from one forest to another, possibly miles away? How had nobody discovered such a phenomenon before? Was such a thing even possible? Madge would have claimed that there was no logical way it could exist, yet here I was.

_Wait until Madge finds out_, I thought, and then added darkly, _if I ever get the chance to tell her_.

I wandered through the forest, sometimes stumbling, sometimes having to stop and hold my throbbing arm against my chest. The air was cool and raised goosebumps. The trees were tall and menacing, with twisting branches that resembled clawed limbs. They were somewhat less frightening than they had been the previous night, with sunlight shining through the thin, needle-like leaves and covering the forest floor with golden speckles.

Before long, I was tired, my breath was ragged and painful, and sweat beaded along my brow. I barely noticed when the birds stopped chirping and the insects stopped buzzing, and I didn't think twice when I heard the sound of an animal begin to shriek and was suddenly silenced. I did, however, notice when the voices began.

"What did ya' get, there?" grumbled one voice in a Cockney accent.

There was a rustling for a moment, and another voice spoke, closer than the first. "Eh…a rabbit. Skinny one, too – barely enough for a stew! Mayla'll pitch a fit," it said. The voice was thick and unintelligent.

My eyes widened and I dropped into a crouch and snuck forward, moving as quietly as I could. I don't know why I didn't want to be seen, but something in their voices told me that the men were not the friendliest.

"Damn… All the good game's movin' northways, is what I heard. Spring's comin' 'round, the herds' s'posed to be comin' back. But February's come 'n gone, and March's nearly halfway through, but still our bellies are empty 'n twisted, and our children are growin' with brittle bones that won't last another winter," the first voice said. His tone was pained and angry, and he finished his little speech with a snort. "Damn!"

The second voice spoke up. "Damn? Damn who? Who can we blame for there bein' no food? The palace is a ghost place, with no king on the throne. The guard's roamin' the streets, 'restin folks 'n lockin' em up for trial, but there's no one to pass judgment! We're a lawless land, Cory, 'n that's the truth of things," it said.

I gasped. Was this the land I had been dropped in? A starving kingdom with no law and a guard with nobody _to_ guard? The thought made me shiver, and I turned my attention back to the two men.

" – ya' hear that?" said the second voice.

"Think it came from them bushes," the first replied.

It took me too long to realize what they were talking about, and before I knew it, someone had grabbed me by the hair and yanked me to where the voices had come from. "No!" I cried, but the hand pulled me towards a man waiting by a tree. He was dressed in rags, and a thick, grey beard covered most of his face. He carried a bow and arrow, and he was squinting at me through brown eyes. I saw that his left one was glazed over, blind.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked, smiling. His teeth were crooked and black.

"Looks like a little birdy," said the one who was holding my hair. He sniggered. "Maybe she can add some meat to my stew. Mayla doesn't have to know."

The other one threw back his head and hooted with laughter. "Depends on how much she's got on her. Why don't we slice her up and see for ourselves?" he said. I heard the sound of steel being unsheathed, and then there was a long, curved dagger hovering in front of my face.

"No! No, please! I – I just want to get home," I sobbed.

They both cackled. "Don't worry, darlin'," said the one who was holding my hair. "This'll only hurt for a moment." He lifted the knife high in the air and swung it towards me.

"No!" I jerked my head to the side, feeling some hair being ripped from my scalp. The knife hissed passed my cheek and plunged deep into the man's knee. He screamed and released his grip on my hair, hands traveling to the wound.

Wasting no time, I whirled around and grabbed at the dagger's hilt, wood bound in leather, and wrenched it from the man's leg. Another bloodcurdling screech filled the air as I brought the knife down again and again into the man's chest. I clutched the blade with my right hand, but I was so full of adrenaline that I did not notice the pain coursing through my arm. Blood splattered up from the knife wound and coated me from the tips of my fingers all the way to white pinafore hanging over my chest. Finally, the man's screams stopped, and he fell silent.

Ripping the knife from his chest, I slowly turned around to face the other man, darkness gleaming in my eye.

He had not moved an inch, staring at me with shock and horror, but the realization of what I was about to do seemed to break his trance. "Shit!" he exclaimed, hurriedly notching an arrow and firing it in my direction. It had been hastily shot, without aim, and it landed a few feet to my left. I jerked to the right and ran towards him, tackling him to the ground from his blind side. He had another arrow in his hand and raised it to strike me, but I reached up and snapped off the top half before burying the arrowhead in his abdomen.

He screeched, the other half of the arrow falling from his grasp, but I did not loosen my hold. His screams dissolved into sobs. "You little bitch!" he cried. I dug the arrow in deeper, making him release another yelp.

"Now, listen here, you brute," I said through gritted teeth. "In the past day, I have fallen down the biggest hole in existence, broken my arm, was attacked by a savage cat, and was nearly killed by your friend over there." I jerked my head in the direction of the body lying behind me. "After all that's happened to me, you should feel grateful that I have just one question to ask. _Where – am – I_?" I dug the arrow in deeper with every word, and he released a sob with every movement.

"You – you're crazy, woman. I'm not telling you shit!" he wept. I twisted the arrow in his gut, hard. He screamed again.

"_Where_?!" I demanded.

"Wonderland!" he screamed immediately. "You're in Wonderland!"

I nodded. My nostrils were flared and my breath was harsh. Wonderland? That didn't help a bit, but at least he answered. I considered him for a moment. I had been through more than I could ever have imagined in just the past few hours. I had no idea where I was or how to get back. More than anything, I was enraged.

I took a deep breath. "You… you and your friend were about to kill me, right?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it quivered with fury. "You were about to chop me up and put me in your stew. Is that what you normally do to people you find, helpless in the woods?"

"No!" he sobbed. "No, please!"

"You were," I hissed. "Don't pretend. You were going to murder me."

"We weren't! I swear!"

"My father tells me never to lie," I said through gritted teeth. I tightened the grip on the dagger in my other hand and plunged the tip into his throat. His eyes widened, and he gurgled, red staining his lips. Blood bubbled up from the wound. He thrashed for a moment, and then lay still.

I took a deep breath and lifted the blade from his neck when I noticed that I felt no pain. I was holding the knife in my right hand, the hand from my broken arm, but there was no pain. I dropped the dagger and looked at my bound wound. Blood from both of the men coated the bandage, seeping through the cloth. I slowly peeled the fabric from my skin, and started.

There was no gash, no broken bone. It was completely healed.


	3. Chapter 3

"So… are you a _real _hatter? Or is it just a title?" I said as I staggered next to Hatter. We had been walking for… Well, I didn't actually know how long we had been walking. As soon as we started our trek to Hatter's camp, my arm began throbbing painfully. When he had finally gotten tired of my moaning, Hatter allowed me to drink from the bottle until I felt better.

In reality, my arm had stopped hurting a while ago, but the burning of the alcohol was intoxicating. It allowed me to escape from my troubles for a while, to forget whatever obstacles blocked my path. I think he knew that I was lying about the pain in my arm to keep drinking from the bottle, but he seemed amused by my behavior. A few times, he had tried to steal the bottle back from me, but I always pouted my lips at him and jerked it out of his grasp.

"I don't really know who I was before I came to Wonderland," he said. He spoke curiously, with his eyebrows knitted together as he looked at the clouds passing overhead. "It was so long ago, eventually the memories slip away. So, I don't know if I was a hatter professionally, but I can make a hat whenever the urge strikes me."

This made me smile at him wonkily. "You…you should make me a hat sometime," I said. My footsteps became farther apart. I had trouble seeing in a straight line. Curious…perhaps having more of that wonderful drink would make me feel better. I gulped down another mouthful. I hardly noticed the burn anymore.

"You should put down that bottle sometime," the Hatter said, eying me wearily.

"But it makes me feel good!" I protested. "Right in here!" I had planned on patting my chest over my heart, but I ended up jabbing myself in the throat. I coughed and stumbled, the bottle falling from my grasp. Hatter somehow managed to keep both me and the bottle from hitting the ground.

"Alright, no more drink for you," he said, helping me back to my feet.

"No! Boo!" I said, waving my arms around wildly, trying to snatch the bottle back.

"Listen, Alice," he said. "I just think you should take a short break, eh? How's that sound?"

I pouted. The bottle made me feel good! Why'd he try to take it away from me? Suddenly, I realized something. I didn't have a hat. "Where's my hat?" I said, crestfallen. I back away from Hatter and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You promised me a hat!" I said angrily.

He scoffed. "I did no such thing."

I exhaled, my nostrils flaring. "You didn't? Hmm… We'll have to fix that. You, Hatter," I said, swaying in place, "will make me a hat. And you know what? I want you to make me a _fez_." I smiled at the sky. It was so beautiful, soft and blue. "Fezzes are…blue," I added thoughtfully.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "What?"

I looked at him innocently. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

He just sighed and took a swig from his bottle. "You are going to be a major pain in the arse, Alice. A _major_ pain," he said.

I sniffed, and we continued talking. I swaggered up next to him, my arms swinging lazily at my side. I eyed him curiously. His pale, angular face was turned away from me, his mismatched eyes focused on the path ahead. I poked a curious finger at his cheek. He flinched away from my touch and gave me an annoyed look. "What?" he said.

"You said that you didn't remember anything before Wonderland," I said.

"And?"

"Did you have a life before? Were you from somewhere else?" I asked.

"Did I not say that I didn't remember?" he snapped. I looked up at him, hurt. Finally, he sighed. "Yes," he said. "Truth is, everybody was from somewhere else before Wonderland. We all live our lives wherever we were, and then we're suddenly dragged down here. Understand this, Alice – the more time passes down here, the less you remember about your old life. At a point, Wonderland is all you know, and you can never go back." He turned his gaze back to the path. "I've been in Wonderland for as long as I can remember. I have no idea who I was before. All that I have left are my hats."

I patted him on the back. "Poor, poor Hatter," I said. "Tell you what, when I find a way out of here, I'm taking you with. You can come live with me in my manor, and you'll make a different hat for me every day," I promised.

He slowed his pace, gave me a good long look, and burst out laughing.

"What?" I said.

"Never make promises you can't keep, doll," he gasped between his chortles, "especially while you're down here."

"But why is that funny?" I asked, genuinely confused.

He didn't answer my question, but only met my gaze with a smile. "I could really use I nice cup of tea right now," he said.

I scoffed and shoved passed him, my steps uneven and shaky. I heard him catch up to me, still laughing, but we did not speak again for some time. Finally, he stopped in his tracks and motioned for me to do the same.

"What? What is it?" I asked.

He stopped laughing, but the smile remained on his face. "We're here," he said. He then continued forward, with me staggering behind him. The trees cleared out, and we came to another clearing. Three different tents made from what looked like patterned bedsheets were arranged around the open space, and a long, rectangular tea table was stationed at the center. A long, lace tablecloth covered the wooden surface, and an assortment of pastry plates and china dishes sat on top.

"Hello!" Hatter called out, strutting into the clearing. "Hare? Mousie? I'm back!"

Two figures emerged from a tent and began to march toward Hatter angrily. It took me a bit to realize only one of them was human. The other was an incredibly large hare. He was skinny and was covered in coarse, patchy brown fur. He wore a raggedy, dark red trench coat that covered most of his body, and he walked on his hind legs. The human was a girl, who looked to be around Hatter's age, but was nearly a head shorter than him. She had wild brown hair and caramel-colored eyes. Her skin was tan and freckled. She, too, wore a trench coat, but hers was oversized, brown, and ragged. Underneath her coat, I could see a baby blue shirt and ratty brown pants. A broad leather belt was strapped around her waist, with a long, silver rapier tucked into it.

As they neared us, Hatter's grin widened, and he spread his arms out in welcome. "Hello, my friends! How have you been?"

The girl answered by striding up to the Hatter, throwing her arms around him, and planting her lips on his.

I took an unsteady step back, slightly put off. This was not what I was expecting.

The girl spent a good few second like that. Once she broke away, she took a step back and looked at the Hatter up and down. Then she backhanded him across the face.

Hatter staggered back, rubbing his cheek. "Mousie!" he exclaimed.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" she snapped. Her voice was high-pitched, but forceful and ferocious. "'Oh, I'll just be out for a bit, maybe collect some herbs'! Collecting herbs my arse! You were gone the whole night! Do you know how worried I was? You could've been torn apart by a pack of Bandersnatches, or eaten up by those wild huntsmen!" She spoke without a pause for breath, and Hatter had to interrupt her to get her to stop.

"Relax, Mousie," he said, his voice soothing. He used that same soothing voice on me, I thought with a bit of hurt. "I did come across a Bandersnatch, but it was a loner." At this, the girl's eyes widened furiously. "I took care of myself," Hatter insisted. He placed his hands on her shoulders. At this small but intimate action, I felt something unpleasant swell up in my chest. Sadness, and…jealousy?

The girl still looked upset. She jerked her head in my direction. "Who's she?" she asked stiffly.

"Oh!" said the Hatter. He turned to me uncomfortably. "Mousie, this is Alice. I met her in the wood. Alice, meet Doormouse."

Doormouse eyed me with disdain. She sniffed. "She's drunk," she said, then she eyed my right arm, which hung limply at my side. "And injured," she added.

"I found her like that," Hatter said. "She was about to get eaten by that Bandersnatch I was talking about." Hearing him talk about me, as if I wasn't there or couldn't hear him, it made me mad.

"Not just that!" I said. "I also fell down a hole and…and I was reading _Man and Nature_, and Rabbit was late!" I struggled to collect my thoughts. The memories were cluttered in my mind, and fell out of my mouth in a fuddle. I couldn't think straight, everything seemed to fuse and twist together.

Doormouse didn't seem satisfied with my muddled explanation. She turned back to Hatter angrily. "See? Drunk."

He looked sheepish. "I gave her a bit of drink for the pain. I was hoping we could get some tea."

"Tea?" I looked at the hare, a little bewildered. It was the first time he talked. "You disappear for an entire night and come back with a drunken, weak little girl and expect us to waste precious tea on _her_? To that I say, _keep dreaming you sodding looney_!" I tried not to be too surprised at the fact that the hare just insulted me. Giant cat-monsters could try to kill you and rabbits could carry pocket watches. Why couldn't hares talk?

Hatter rounded on the hare, anger flashing in his multicolored eyes. "Oh, you're calling _me_ looney?" he said, his voice rising. "That's rich, coming from the guy who tried to wear a tea kettle as a helmet during battle!"

"Well, maybe if you hadn't _spiked the bloody tea _–"

"Oh, piss off you half-baked rodent –"

"Will you two just shut up?" Doormouse snapped. Hatter turned and opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted, "Hatter, I swear if you say a single word, I will rip out your eyeballs and squash them into jelly for my morning toast."

"She ain't joking," Hare put in.

Doormouse turned on him, exasperated. "Hare, just…get the bloody tea." Hare's jaw dropped in disbelief, but he turned and walked towards the tea table without a word.

I gazed up at Doormouse and tried to look sincere, though I fear that I failed in my drunken state. "Th-thank you, Doormouse," I slurred.

She just sighed. "Sit down, Alice, before you hurt yourself," she said. I nodded and staggered over to a seat at the tea table. I took my seat at the edge of the table. Hare was preparing some tea across from me. At least, I thought he was preparing tea. Once he had gotten the water boiling, it looked like he just grabbed random objects from the table and through them in the pot. Cakes, strange-looking flowers and plants, forks and spoons… It didn't seem he was particularly finical as to what qualified as tea.

Finally, when he seemed satisfied with the mixture, he poured some of the light brown liquid into a petite china teacup that was decorated with painted roses. "There you go," he said, handing me the cup. "It's best if you drink it straight up, no cream or sugar."

I looked down at the mixture and sniffed it. It smelled…well, it smelled like regular black tea. "Go on," the hare urged. I glanced up at him, shrugged my shoulders, and took a sip.

I nearly choked in astonishment. It tasted just like the tea back home! I always liked my cup with lots of sugar and a touch of cream, but the familiar taste of the rich, smoky liquid filled my mind with comfort. Warmth spread through my body, clearing the fog from my mind and easing the pain in my arm. Before I knew it, the cup was drained, and the aching of my limb was almost nonexistent.

I lowered the delicate porcelain from my lips. "Now, let's have a look at that owie, eh?" said the hare. I held out my arm for him to inspect and started. The wound had almost entirely disappeared. All that remained was a long, ragged scar that was crusted with dried blood and a slight discoloration of the skin. Hare pressed down on the line with a small paw, and I winced when pain twisted in the area. "Not completely healed," he noted. He gave me a small smile (strange sight, seeing a large hare smile at you) and patted the wound gently. "Just give it time. It'll be OK."

"How… How did it do that?" I asked in wonder.

To this, the hare looked confused (again, curious image). "What do you mean how did it do that? It's tea – that's what tea does," he said.

I shook my head. "Well, we don't have that kind of tea where I'm from."

"Really?" he asked. I nodded. "Sounds painfully dull."

"Hare," a voice said from behind me. I turned to see Hatter walking towards us. From his expression, his conversation with Doormouse hadn't ended well. "Time to say goodnight to our guest. The sun will be down soon."

"Really? The day passed by quickly," I remarked.

He nodded. "Indeed. Yesterday was longer by at least a couple of hours," he said. I raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question it. He continued, "Doormouse agreed to let you stay with us for a while, 'till we've decided how to get you back home. We've got some spare bedsheets; I'm going to set up your tent if you want to come."

In reality, I had little to no interest in watching someone set up a tent, but I enjoyed the hatter's company, and would have appreciated a quiet conversation with him, alone. I stood up, suddenly sober, and nodded my thanks to Hare. He returned my nod, but glared at Hatter until we were a good distance away. I considered myself lucky that he didn't share his hostility towards Hatter with me. Obviously, he and Hatter had some sort of unresolved conflict, and I did not wish to become involved.

When Hatter settled on an unoccupied section of the clearing, he began his work. I watched with mild curiosity as his slim fingers worked diligently at tying knots and shoving spikes into the dirt. Finally, I mustered up the courage to ask him, "So… Are you and her…you know, together?"

He paused briefly in his work to give me a quick glance. "Who, Mousie? Well, yes. What of it?" he asked.

My spirits lessened a tad at his confirmation, but I tried to cover it. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." There was a short silence before I spoke again. "Have you two been together for long?" I asked.

He sighed. "What's this about, Alice?" he asked, exasperated. I said nothing, but looked down at my feet with a bit of shame. Hatter sighed again and answered at last. "Yes. At least, I think so." He struggled to find the right words. "I don't really remember, but…I think she came with me." At my confused expression, he elaborated, "What I mean is, I think I knew her before Wonderland. She's been with me for as long as I can remember, so eventually we just…got together."

"Ah," I said, trying not to show my chagrin in my voice. Of course. I'd been foolish to assume that Hatter didn't have anyone. He stood up then, dusting his hands.

"There," he said, eying the fully-assembled tent. The sheets had a pink-and-green floral pattern on top of a creamy white background. I fingered the fabric delicately. It was as soft as down. "That should hold up. Will you be OK for the night?" he asked, turning towards me.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I'll be fine," I assured him. The fading light made me look at the western sky. As the glowing orange orb sunk slowly behind the pine trees, bright colors were painted throughout the sky. Fierce orange, burning red and passionate fuchsia burst across the horizon with more beauty than I had ever seen anywhere in England. "How will I survive here?" I murmured.

"With us," Hatter answered with a reassuring smile. Before, his smile would have exhilarated me, but now I only gave him a small, sad look and climbed into my tent.

* * *

What was I doing? Where was I going? What was happening to me?

I plodded through the forest, completely drained. The hunter's dagger was tucked into the ribbon tied around my waist, and I carried the bow and quiver on my back. After collecting the two arrows in the clearing, I had a total of 13 in the brown, cloth quiver.

Was this a punishment? Had I committed some past sin? Had God decided that I was deserving of this torture?

I had abandoned my one remaining shoe back in the clearing and traded it for one of the hunter's leather boots. They were a bit big on me, but after stuffing some bloody cloth into the toes, I could fit into them well.

I was a killer, a murderer. One could argue that my first kill had been in self-defense, but not the second. I had him pinned to the ground. I had heard his pleas for mercy, and what had I done? I had stabbed him in the throat and robbed his corpse.

I looked down at my ruined dress. At this point, it no longer resembled the cute, blue frock that Mum had sewn for me. What remained was torn, bloodied, and painted with mud. No doubt my hair was beyond saving. I remembered how it shown whenever Mother brushed it out, how the golden locks gleamed in the sunlight. Now, I shuddered at how I must appear.

Though my arm was no longer broken, I don't think I had ever been in more pain. I was a murderer, far from home, and nobody knew where I was. I had been attacked twice in the past 24 hours, once by a creature that I was almost certain didn't exist. I had stabbed and tortured people, robbed their bodies, and slept against the belly of a dead animal. In just the past day, how much had I changed? What had I become?

I didn't even know if I was Alice anymore.

A noise made me whirl around, drawing my dagger, but nothing was there. Oh, what had I planned on doing anyway? I had no idea how to use a knife!

_Says the girl who stabbed three living creatures to death_, I thought sardonically. I looked around. I was truly alone. Not even any man-eating monsters or cannibalistic hunters accompanied me in my directionless trek. I might as well practice with my newly-acquired weapons.

I removed the bow from my back and drew an arrow from the quiver. Notching it with shaking fingers, I pulled back the string and chose my target – the center of a broad tree trunk. Then, I fired.

The arrow struck the base of a tree about 1 meter to the right of my target. The shaft slapped against the rough bark and snapped in two. A furious cry escaped my lips before I could stop myself. My frustrated snarl echoed through the woods, causing birds to caw and fly from their trees. By God! I sounded like an animal!

I flared my nostrils and walked over to inspect the splintered remains of the arrow. How could I miss the target _this much_? I sighed and backed away to my original position, shaking my head. I notched another arrow and released my hold on the string. This time, the arrow flew to the left and whooshed farther into the woods, out of sight. I tried to keep from roaring, but it required more effort than it should have.

I continued my attempts for what felt like hours. I continuously adjusted my stance, fiddled with the string, and examined the distance between me and the tree. I tried to imitate the hold on the arrow that the hunter had, but my memory was faint. I hadn't been concentrating on how he held the bow at the time, rather how I was going to get out of the situation alive.

This went on well into the night, and soon the sun came up from the east, and it was the next day. I had gone the entire night without sleep. My limbs were trembling and my eyes were surely bloodshot, but I dared no discontinue my practice until I had gotten one good shot in.

I sighed and lowered the bow. Arrows were strewn across the forest floor, several of them broken. I counted that only 9 of the original 13 remained intact. I reached into the quiver for another arrow, but realized it was empty. With another heavyhearted sigh, I walked towards the area where most of the arrows had fallen. I gathered up the ones that weren't broken and returned to my spot. I paused before notching the next arrow, and changed my position.

This stance was with my feet shoulder-width apart, with me standing perpendicular to the shooting line. I notched the arrow and drew my arm back, but adjusted my grip and so that I was holding the arrow between my index and middle finger, with my ring finger helping to hold the string. I tried to align the bow better with the target. After taking a long, deep breath, I fired.

The changed alignment of the bow caused the string to slap against the exposed flesh of my wrist as soon as I released it. I cried out, dropped the bow, and bent over, holding my throbbing wrist to my chest. I bit my lip and looked at what was surely another failed attempt at a shot and gasped. My stinging wrist momentarily forgotten, I quickly walked towards the tree to better look at the arrow.

I had hit the tree, and the arrow had landed head first, only about 15 centimeters from the target.

I laughed giddily. Perhaps I was not doomed to die in this strange land, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who favorited and followed! I really appreciate it and you are the people who keep me writing!**

**To Angelique: Thank you so much for the reviews. I actually came up with the idea for this fanfic while watching my cousin play Alice Madness Returns. As for your interesting idea...****_sshhh!_**

**As always, I'll try to post the next chapter ASAP, and please leave a review! Bye!**

* * *

I woke up late the next morning, feeling good for the first time in ages. I was lying on top of an ocean of furs and bedsheets. The smell of spring grass and flowers greeted my nostrils, just like it had on the hill outside the Manor. I pursed my lips, my mind travelling back to my strange dream. Why would I dream about shooting an arrow when archery had never peaked my interest before? I shrugged, choosing to forget the strange experience. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my blankets falling from my body, and I inspected my arm. Only a large, ugly bruise remained as evidence of my broken arm.

My stomach rumbled, and I was suddenly aware of how long it had been since my last meal. I remembered the several untouched pies and cake bars that had been strewn across the tea table the previous day. I got up eagerly and hurried to take one of the wooden benches that lined the table. Funny how fresh they all looked. I could smell honey and butter; I could see rich crème oozing out of the crisp, flaky skin of the different tarts and Danishes. Ripe, plump fruit was stacked in the middle of the table and strewn overtop glazes. Sweet blueberries inside different puff pastries. I was about to grab a fistful of pistachio mini-pies before I heard Hatter's voice behind me, "I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

I turned to see him walking leisurely in my direction. He had changed out of his clothes from yesterday; he had abandoned the waistcoat and switched out the black shirt for one that had swirling patterns of crimson and gold, and his speckled bowtie was now deep mahogany. His earth brown velvet coat was pulled over his shoulders, and I could see his leather belt that held both a holster for his pistol and the scabbard for his cutlass.

"Why not? I haven't eaten in over a day!" I growled. The Hatter only raised an amused eyebrow, picked up one of the pies, and chucked it at a nearby tree. It splattered against the bark, and immediately green ooze dripped down from the sweet crust. Bark and wood sizzled and burned as the acidic goop traveled slowly down the trunk. My eyes widened and I gaped at Hatter, who simply looked at me with his head cocked to one side.

"In case we're ever visited by cards or other predators, we can just hide away while they eat themselves to death," he explained. I just looked down at the feast before me dejectedly, my stomach growling. "Here," he said, handing me a piece of rough jerky. I accepted half-heartedly and bit into the tough meat, struggling to tear off a piece. Hatter talked as I ate the dried strip, "Living on the run hardly ever gives us the chance to enjoy fancy foods."

I smiled, my mouth full of jerky. I swallowed the meat and said, "Around this time, I'd be enjoying some bacon and fried tomato."

"Bacon," the Hatter said wistfully. "It's been so long since I last had bacon."

I paused thoughtfully before taking my next bite of jerky and looked up at Hatter. "Why are you running, Hatter?" I asked. "What happened?"

Immediately, Hatter sobered. He looked to the other side of the camp, where Hare and Doormouse were packing up the tents. "It wasn't always like this," he said after a while. "We worked together in a clothing shop outside of the High King's Province." His voice turned wistful, his gaze distant. "Hare was my assistant, and Mousie… well, she was a seamstress believe it or not.

"The White King ruled Wonderland back. Life was simpler. It was just how many hats we sold that week." He chuckled softly. "But the King… Suffice to say he wasn't loved by all of his subjects. There was a coup, the King was murdered, and everything changed. Nobody assumed the thrown, so the military just…took over, I suppose. They arrested random people on the streets, and killed others with no provocation." Then, Hatter looked back at me. "It didn't take long for us to figure we weren't safe in the city anymore. So we ran, and we've been running ever since."

I had been listening quietly, slowly chewing the strip of jerky. After hearing his story, I better understood why he and Doormouse were together. After going through so much with a person, they must have grown close. I suddenly felt guilty. They were running for their _lives_, and suddenly they had to take care of me? A petty, clueless little girl? These people were only a few years older than me, and they had experienced hardships that I hadn't even dreamed about.

I tried to imagine what my life would be like without a home, without Madge, or my parents, or my bed and my servants. Then I realized that I didn't have to imagine it. I was living it.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, not knowing what else to say.

In response, Hatter sighed and glanced back at his companions. "I just wish that I could help them," he said. "I've always looked out for my friends, but just in the last year, I've let them down more times than I can count." He looked at me, and for the first time, I truly saw how young he was. He was barely older than me, and he was facing challenges that I never thought I would have to experience.

"You can't take care of everybody, Hatter," I said. "It's not your job."

He shook his head in frustration. "You don't understand, Alice. You can never understand. It _is_ my job. If I lose my friends, then it will be my fault, because _I'm_ the one who forced them to run away with me."

I objected, "They didn't have a choice. They would have died otherwise."

"You don't know that," he said.

"I know that nothing good would have come out of staying," I responded. "I know that you did the right thing."

He just stared at me with his mismatched eyes and said, "How can you know that, Alice? You're just a child." Then, he stood up and walked away.

It was a few hours before we finished packing the camp. I tried my best to help, but my mind was elsewhere. At one point, Doormouse seemed ready to murder me when I spilled some tea while trying to move it into a canteen for the road. I just apologized dumbly and went to fold up my bedsheet tent.

What was I even doing here? I lived in Oxford, in a house with my family and my cat Dinah. My life was simple, uncomplicated. What had I done wrong to deserve this? Where could I even go? This land was in ruins, and every minute I spent here put my new friends in more danger. I was a burden. How could I just throw myself at these strangers and expect them to keep me safe?

I knew that I could never get the answers to these questions going on the way I was. It was obvious that Hatter, Hare and Doormouse were just as confused as I was. They had no answers for me. I would have to get them myself.

We eventually finished packing up camp and started into the woods. I quickened my pace so that I was walking beside Hatter while Hare and Doormouse walked farther ahead. "Where are we going?" I asked.

Hatter took a drink from a silver flask. I could tell from the odor that it was another alcoholic mixture. "We're just moving farther into the forest," he replied mildly. "We can't stay in one place for long. It increases our chances of being discovered."

I nodded in understanding. I stayed silent for a moment before finally asking the question that had been plaguing my thoughts since I arrived at the camp. "What do you plan to do with me?" I asked him.

"Pardon?" said the hatter, confused.

I looked at him thoughtfully. "You know I can't stay here, Hatter," I said. "I don't belong in Wonderland. I need to get back to my home."

To this, Hatter sighed. "Yes, this 'Aberdale Wood'? I've heard of no such place in Wonderland. How exactly did you get here?" he asked.

"I told you, I fell down a rabbit hole," I replied impatiently.

He blinked. "You mean you were serious about that? I thought you were just drunk."

"Hatter!" I exclaimed in disdain.

He shrugged defensively. "I have never heard of a person coming to Wonderland through a rabbit hole," he said.

"But how did you come here, then?" I asked. "You said that most everyone had a home somewhere else before Wonderland. Perhaps you entered like I did, down a rabbit hole."

Hatter snorted and said, "I think I would remember if I followed rabbit into a different universe, thank you very much."

"How else could you have come here?" I asked.

"Through the Looking Glass," he responded instantly.

I looked at him with doubt. "A looking glass?"

"Not _a_ looking glass. _The_ Looking Glass. The proper one. There's only one in all of Wonderland. Legend has it that it can transport people to other worlds," he said.

I paused for a moment. "Do you suppose it could take me back to my world?" I suggested.

"Perhaps," said Hatter. "It's our best option. The only problem is that nobody knows where it is, or what it looks like."

"I imagine it would look like a looking glass," I said.

He gave me a condescending look. "I wouldn't be too sure of that, doll. This isn't just any regular mirror. Portals to different dimensions… there has to be something special about those. Nobody's ever seen one in real life."

"Then how can you know that's how you came to Wonderland?" I asked.

"I don't. That's just the thing. There is no truth in Wonderland – no absolute. Everything is always changing and shifting, and eventually stories are the only things that you can rely on," he said.

"Like the Looking Glass?"

"Like the Looking Glass," he confirmed.

I nodded. "Hatter… Will you take me to the Looking Glass?" I asked slowly as he took another swig from his flask.

He stopped in his tracks and sputtered, alcohol dribbling from his lips in a cough. "Everything alright back there, Hatter?" called Doormouse from a few meters ahead.

Hatter coughed some more and rasped, "Yes, yes I'm fine." He then glanced at me and continued walking.

"Hatter?" I asked. He did not respond. "Are you going to help me, Hatter?" I pressed.

He gave me a pained expression and said, "How can you ask this of me, Alice? I can't even leave this forest without risking my neck, and you want me to abandon my friends and help you chase down a legend?"

"You just said it was my best chance!" I objected.

"But that doesn't mean –" The Hatter broke off and sighed in frustration. "Alice, please. I like you, I really do, but this is something that I can't do for you."

I looked at him solemnly. "I don't belong here, Hatter. Please, I just want to get home," I said.

The look that Hatter gave me then was full of pity. I didn't want pity. I wanted help. "You have to understand, Alice," he said slowly. "_Nobody_ belongs here at first. Everybody in Wonderland came from somewhere, but we all wound up here. You'll adjust, Alice, I promise. You'll forget all about your life before."

He probably meant to sound comforting, but his words only enraged me. "Is that what you think I want? To stay here and forget about my friends, my family, my entire _life_? I need to get home, Hatter. I can't stay here. I can't be like…like…" I struggled for words, and finally finished with, "like _you_."

Immediately, Hatter's face morphed. His expression hardened and turned stony and cold. "No," he said quietly. "No, I suppose you wouldn't want to be like me at all." He then turned away from me, and did not speak to me again.

* * *

I remember waking up in the middle of the night to hear the clash of thunder outside. "Madge," I had whispered, but my sister was fast asleep in her bed on the other side of the room. Lightning flashed outside, lighting up my bedroom with an instant of blinding brightness. But just as quickly it was gone, and I was encased in the black of night once more. A low, deep rumble followed shortly after, like a giant bass drum being struck in the heavens.

"Madge," I whispered again. "Madge, wake up." My sister remained unresponsive, and I threw my blankets off and lowered my bare feet to the wooden floor. It was cold and hard. I tip-toed to Madge's bed and gently shook her shoulder. "Madge, it's storming out." I said in a hushed voice.

She had groaned, "Alice?"

"Come watch the lightning with me," I said eagerly.

She just shook her head. "Go back to bed," my sister ordered groggily. And then she turned her head away from me.

"_Madge_." I was annoyed when she did not answer. I looked around the room, squinting through the darkness, then walked softly to the door and exited the room.

The hallway was bathed in the dark blue of night. I crept down the corridor as silently as I could. Rain poured forcefully behind the walls, with a sound like an army of tiny rocks bombarding the house, occasionally interrupted by another grumble of thunder. I felt a draft, raising goosebumps on my skin. The cold soaked through the thin, soft fabric of my nightdress. I turned and caught sight of a pair of double doors ahead of me. One was cracked open slightly, allowing the chill wind to flow into the hallway.

I had wondered into the room, and recognized it as Father's study. One window had been left open. Rain tumbled in through the opening, soaking the carpet beneath it. The wind made the drapes flap around like the wings of a bird. I started forward and closed the window, ignoring the sopping, frigid carpet beneath my bare feet. I turned and looked around. The quiet in the study was eerie, yet serene. I decided to take this opportunity.

I had rummaged through the drawers of Father's desk until finally finding the little cardboard box of matches. I struck one and lit the tall, wax candles settled on the desk. Eagerly, I searched through the shelves of the study, until I finally came across the right book.

I pulled out _Frankenstein_, my favorite classic. I had read it at least a half dozen times before, each time more enticing and bone-chilling than the last. I had just begun the 5th chapter when my father entered the study.

I remember very clearly how I had just read the description of the monster's features, just envisioned the wrinkled yellow skin, milky white eyes, and thin black lips when I heard the slow creak of the wooden door. I had jumped out of my seat, terrified by the sudden noise when I saw my father stagger groggily into the room, garbed in his thick mahogany robe.

"Alice?" he had said. "What are you doing here?"

"The rain woke me," I replied.

He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and peered at the book I was hugging to my chest. "What have we got here?" he inquired, gently taking the book away from me and reading the title. He _tsk_ed. "You should not be reading such morbid novels, Alice. It won't help you sleep at all."

"If I had wanted to sleep, Father, I would have stayed in bed," I said. This made him smile. He held out his hand, and I took it.

"Come on, Alice," he said. "I'll walk you to your room." He did so, and when I was tucked under the covers, he sat down on the bedside and began to stroke my hair back.

"Will you tell me a story?" I asked.

"You were just reading one," he replied.

"I want another one."

He glanced back at Madge, who was fast asleep in her bed. "It will wake your sister."

"Then tell it quietly," I countered.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Which one would you like to hear?" he asked.

I paused only for a moment before I answered, "Tell me of Robin Hood."

* * *

I had never been a deep sleeper, so when the terrified shriek of a deer sounded in the woods, my eyes snapped open. My hand automatically travelled to the hunting knife tucked in my sash and I stayed as still as a statue. When I was sure that the danger was not nearby, I relaxed my grip on my knife and sat up. By that time, I had realized that the noise was terrified, defenseless, not by some predator. I picked up my bow and slung the quiver over my shoulder. Then, I made my way to the direction of the noise.

It wasn't long before I found myself crouched behind a collection of bushes, seeing a large doe entrapped in a net. I narrowed my eyes. Whoever set this trap could be here any moment. I considered just leaving and avoiding any contact with the hunter, but instead hurried towards the net. I paused about two meters from the trap, where the deer was kicking in panic. Eventually, it stopped and simply hung limply in the tangle of rope.

I took a few more steps closer and peered at the creature. It wasn't too long ago that I would have cut the creature down without a moment's hesitation.

I shrugged, grabbed my dagger, and shoved it into the doe's neck. It kicked and emitted an agonized cry, but I pulled out the knife and plunged it into its skull. It squeaked once more, and then was silent.

I had just started sawing at the ropes when I heard the snap of a twig. Immediately, I tucked away the knife and whipped out my bow and notched an arrow. "Who's there?" I shouted. There was no response. "Reveal yourself!" I demanded. There was a rustle, and two boys stepped out from the brush. I blinked, wondering if I was seeing double, but then realized that they must have been twins. They looked completely identical.

They weren't very tall, maybe one and a half meters, but their strength was clear from the ropes of muscle that bulged beneath their dirty skin. They were a handsome pair, with broad shoulders and fair features. Dull orange hair grew in a tangled mess that fell to their shoulders. They stepped into the clearing slowly, with their hands in the air. "Let's calm here," said one of the twins, "before you do something you might regret."

"Oh, I don't think I'll regret this," I replied coolly.

He gulped and said, "Let's try this again. What's your name?"

I took a threatening step forward. "I don't really think you're in the position to be asking questions right now. Do you?" I said.

I saw a bead of sweat trickle down his face. Suddenly, the other one spoke. "Listen, we don't want any trouble here," he said. "We just want our deer."

"I do believe it's my deer now," I said.

"It's _our_ catch," he objected.

"Finders, keepers. Sorry."

He made frustrated sigh and opened his mouth to object, but his twin spoke first. "Alright, then. Enjoy your deer. We'll just be off, then," he said reluctantly, taking a small step backwards. I fired an arrow. It landed just to the right of his foot, stopping him in his tracks.

"Before you go," I said, "why don't you hand over whatever food or weapons you might have on you?" I finished the sentence by taking out another arrow and notching it. One of the boys looked ready to explode, but the other one took out a dirk and held it out to me. "You, too." I nodded to the other boy, but he just turned red in the face.

"I'll be damned if I give up my club to a _girl_," he spat.

"Just do it, Dum," hissed his brother.

He snorted angrily, but brought out a large, wooden club. "Throw it on the ground," I commanded. They obeyed. "Now step away." As they did so, I lowered my bow and walked towards the surrendered weapons. But as I neared, one of the twins lunged towards me.

I was ready, however. I dodged his first punch and jabbed him in the throat with stiff fingers. His eyes bulged and he choked, momentarily stunned. I took the opportunity to grasp him firmly by the shoulders and knee him in the groin. Another strangle cry was forced out of his throat, and he fell to his knees.

His brother had taken the moment to seize his dirk and point it at me, but by that time I had already brought out my knife and had it pressed against the former's throat.

The alarm was clear in his brother's face. "Don't hurt him," he pleaded.

"I might not have, if he had just done what I asked," I snarled.

"Listen," he insisted, "We need that deer."

"I'm hungry, too," I said.

He continued, "It's not for us. We come from a village not too far from here. Ever since the king fell, soldiers have been occupying the streets, destroying farms, and arresting folks for no reason. There's no food anymore. We're their only hope." He paused, but I said nothing. I only stared at him coldly. "Please," he said. "He's my brother. He's the only family I've got left."

I was silent for I time, but eventually I lowered my knife and pushed my captive away. He staggered to his feet and walked up beside his brother. "I lost my family, too," I murmured.

"I'm sorry," said the boy.

"I'm Alice," I said. "Who are you?"

"Tweedle-dee," he replied, "and this is –"

"I can speak for myself, Dee," rasped his brother, rubbing his throat with irritation. He looked at me. "Tweedle-dum," he said.

I nodded in response. "So this village of yours… How bad are the soldiers there?" I asked.

Dum narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What's it to you?"

"Dum, stop," muttered his brother before answering, "The people there are oppressed and defenseless. Dum and I hunt for the villagers, but we can only do so much."

"And I assume that the soldiers have lots of food," I said.

"Yes, obviously." Dee gave me a questioning look. "Why do you ask?"

I sighed. "I'm not from here," I explained. "I'm trying to find a way out. If I help you, will you help me?"

"And how could you possibly help us, girl?" Dum asked, his tone hostile.

"I'm saying I could be Robin Hood. And you two could be my Merry Men."


End file.
